Two Sides of War
by uptightcrankyshadownet
Summary: AU where Nikita's a patriotic soldier and Alex is a prisoner at the camp she's in charge of. When it all boils down, it's a romance in the war. Multi-chaptered. T for probable future violence and violent themes. More characters will be added as the chapters increase but pretty much all will be in there.
1. The Beginning Of The End

**AN: Hello fellow Nikita fans :) this is a random AU I thought of, where in some ambiguous war in the future, Nikita's a soldier and Alex is one of the prisoners who she warms to. Future romantic Nalex, but no other ships confirmed yet. AU versions of Birkhoff, Michael, Percy, Amanda, Sonya and basically the rest of the gang will probably make an appearance in the future chapters, and maybe Alex's mother too. :) Enjoy!**

They'd promised that the war would be quick. That in one sweep, one show of our authority, our strength, our numbers- they would fall groveling to our feet and none of them would rise up against us or defy our orders, and we would be home with our loved ones within half a year, no more.

They'd promised that, unlike the previous wars, the prisoners we captured would be treated with respect and dignity, receiving adequate food, water, shelter and clothing- as well as a limited amount of freedom. They would work, earn a living, feed their children, just under our control and our people.

They'd promised we would get only the best treatment. They'd painted a glorious picture of life as a soldier, whether you were on the frontline or sitting behind a desk or herding the captives back to designated camps. Higher pay than if we stayed behind like cowards, definitely. We would return home at the end with medals adorning our uniforms and our heads high, lording above those who had chosen to indirectly betray their countries and hide in the safety of their homes, letting their fellow countrymen fight for them.

They'd lied, they'd lied through their teeth- and we'd never questioned them. Just turned twenty-one, still young, foolish, dreaming of the prospects of prestige and eminence, going to bed with the thoughts of rising rank above rank. My family had forbade me, their only daughter, from enlisting of my free will even though they knew all those between eighteen and twenty-five would be drafted in the very end. They'd worried about my safety, worried about whether I would come back alive, and all I could see were overprotective weaklings who were obstacles in my road to success. This was what I was destined for. No one could stop me from chasing what I believed I so rightfully deserved.

After one particularly heated argument with my parents, I had had enough. That night I'd packed my essentials, opened the window of my second-storey bedroom, and in one swift drop to the ground, stepped onto a path I could never turn back on.

There is something about having gun in arms, pack on back and brothers and sisters by your side that makes you forget everything but the adrenaline rush of training, focusing all your energy and concentration on sparring, exercises, and the same disciplined routine every day. We were all egged on by the promises of glory, and it kept us going, every single one. Especially when we were called to storm towns and villages and load all our prisoners onto spacious, comfortable-looking vans that we were told would bring them to the regulated camps as 'temporary housing' until the country surrendered to us.

A month passed, then three, then six. Some of the more fidgety ones began to speak up after the seventh, asking why they weren't heading home yet, why the war wasn't yet over as we had been assured. They were quickly silenced with the same sickly sweet guarantees of becoming heroes, that it would end soon enough. The blindfold of lies and deception had not yet been removed from my eyes, and I continued to rally my comrades on, believing wholeheartedly in what I was fighting for, believing that the war would be over, as they had said, soon.

Soon became a year, two, three. All the time, I progressed, becoming known amongst the squadron as one of the stars, excelling in everything thrown at me. Platoon mates declared laughingly that I had probably been born saluting and learned to shoot a gun before I learned to walk, and even the assortment of platoon sergeants agreed that I was extraordinary. It made me proud beyond belief, made me forget the number of lives I had taken, made me forget the niggling prick of guilt at the back of my mind that told me I'd ruined innocent lives, made me forget the family I'd left behind... made me forget the promises I'd been made. When you are constantly complimented, left, right and centre, with friends amongst you and daily rituals of victory songs that remind you that you will be heralded as lionhearts at the end of your brave struggle...

You learn to forget. War makes you inhuman, and dehumanizes everyone you believe you are fighting against. Within the first months we had all stopped using to our enemies by any name, simply calling them 'the enemy', or other names that stick in my throat and force me to always carry the burden of the beast I became. Some began to understand the horrors of the twisted battle we were fighting when they made their first kill, and saw the blood and guts of another human being pooling below their fallen frames, others when they looked into the eyes of screaming children being taken away in separate cars, torn apart from their parents and saw their own sons and daughters, nephews and nieces, their own siblings. There were others who used the power of words- words that were all untruths- to 'bring our companions back to their senses', remind them that these were the enemy, that we were simply giving them a better life under our ruling instead of their current government's- and if these people refused to allow us to help them, then they were worth of death.

I was one of them. For a long, long time.

I didn't know it was all about to change, that long after I'd first signed myself up and exchanged my writing materials for a gun, exchanged my identity and my soul for a brainwashed mind, to be chained and put on puppet strings. But it did.

Proficient as I was, I was soon sent to head one of the camps we'd all heard about. The thought was intoxicating- a position of power, with men and women serving under me, and supposed comfort. It was a running joke amongst our squads when the going got exceedingly tough, that everyone craved to be sent to a camp, even as a captive. We were fed falsehoods about the entire conflict along with the tasteless mush we got at mess, and one that everyone believed without a doubt was how the camps were like paradise, compared to our constant physical exertion and harsh, regulated regimen out on the field, whether in the blazing sun or the pouring rain. The day I was posted, I was surrounded by soon-to-be-ex troopmates, congratulating me with equal parts envy and wonder in their eyes. It was thrilling, it was unbelievable, and I spent the entirety of the journey to Camp: Epsilon with my head wrapped up in dreams for my future.

In my defence, what I was shown on my first day always matched up to what we'd been told. The makeshift hospital looked well-stocked and clean, the bunks were neat, sizable and though minimalistic, conditions certainly weren't horrific. There were entertainment and recreation areas, the mess hall was orderly, and the food was much, much better than what I'd been eating out there. My office was warm, inviting... it was wonderful. It was a dream come true.

It didn't even occur to me that I had not been shown half the camp, even though it was startlingly open to observation. It didn't occur to me that I'd been shown the officers' side of camp, the facade hiding the savagery occuring behind all of it.

I spent my first day reading up on camp rules for our prisoners, which to my addled, propaganda-influenced mind- which conveniently skipped past punishments and death penalties- seemed perfectly reasonable, as well as protocols and procedures. It felt magnificent to have the entire camp at my whim- to be able to call my officers to me at any time, to be able to lay a firm punishment on anyone who stepped out of line, to finally, finally feel like I had the world at my feet. I'd ignored much of the other paperwork and documents in the file that would probably have removed the wool pulled over my eyes- the contents which I'd only learned three months later from the most unexpected source.

Exactly three months to the date my career had been furthered, two officers had knocked on my door and dragged a bedraggled, bloody teenager to my workplace. They'd saluted crisply, apologized for bringing an unworthy, rebellious miscreant where she had no right to be, and then reported.

"Ma'am Mears, this wretch was found trying to escape the compounds of the shelter we have so generously provided for her after a tip-off from her fellow men. As per protocol, we leave the allocation of punishment to you." The young man's face of pride and satisfaction is one that haunts me to this day- one I recognize as once having been mine, the day I escaped, the day I was promoted, the day I first took a life.

I'd cast a critical eye at the youth collapsed on the ground, hair matted, clothes torn and grimy. Even at that moment, the truth had not come to me, and I'd simply assumed she'd injured herself trying to escape the high walls and barbed wire around the camp (which my naive reasoning had told me was to keep everyone within the camp boundaries safe from outsiders). _Serves you right, _I'd thought silently while thanking the pair for their loyalty and obedience.

The door was shut, but the figure lay unmoving on the floor. The tremor of excitement I'd felt, dealing with my first rulebreaker, sickens me now. I'd walked over, putting on a grim expression, and kicked her in the side. "Get up."

She'd struggled up against the pain she must have been suffering, and the first thing that struck me about her was the defiance and loathing that flashed in her eyes. I hadn't seen such a countenance in what felt like an eternity, and for a moment, I was shocked silent by the passion in those eyes, before this young rebel broke camp decorum between POWs and soldiers, and unashamedly spat at my feet.

It had knocked me out of my reverie, and I'd dragged her up by her collar, feet not touching the floor, slapping her straight across the face. She made no sound, shed no tears, simply glared at me with that exact same hatred before she spoke, forcing the words past her parched throat.

"You're Camp Head Nikita Mears, aren't you?" Sh'd smirked mockingly even as she hung above the ground, staring straight at me, her intonations making my status sound like dirt.

"That I am," I'd kept up my overbearing snarl, easily showing this rogue that she needed to be put in her place. "And what do you have to say for yourself?"

All she'd done was grin, finding determination and will even though she was hurt, replying harshly, "There are times, when death seems like a parole from the hellhole called _living. _There are times, when even the tiniest chance of getting out of that same prison is something you've got to believe in, got to risk, because the alternative is just a living nightmare where it takes all of your spirit to survive. And that's what I did, you _fucker. _All of you playing God, thinking you have a right to play with our lives how you want to. I'd rather risk punishment a thousand times, or instant death, because it's better than playing your games."

She'd paused for a long time after she'd finished, then narrowed her eyes when she saw confusion and bewilderment spreading across my face. "Why aren't you replying? Can't face me telling you this?"

I'd set her back down, severely shaken. It was then that I'd started to question everything I'd been told for the past three and a half years, and begun to understand that I was living an existence based on a foundation seething with lies. I'd shaken my head, looked around ensuring nobody was listening in, then sat her down on the chair opposite my table.

"I didn't know about this." I'd admitted the truth to her in five words, and waited for the reaction.

She'd frozen, staring at me unblinkingly, not sure whether to trust me or not, before finally settling on a disbelieving, "_What?_"

"I'm not lying, I promise you." I'd gone on earnestly, trying to impress my statement onto her. "I've been on the field for three years now, and all I've ever been told about the camps you've been living in is that they are civilized and captives are treated well. When I first got here, I was taken on a tour-"

"A tour!" She'd barked with laughter, breaking off to cough weakly. "A tour indeed! Let me tell you this, Camp Head Ma'am Mears, they give you a tour to the _soldiers' _side of the camp. Where they live in pleasantry. We-" She'd jabbed a finger at her heart. "live like animals. Tortured for fun and entertainment, not even for information or anything. Used for sex. Every. Single. Day." She'd shaken her head at me in what seemed like pity. "And you know _nothing? _Your people disgust me even more... not even telling their own what's going on."

I'd walked up, called for a messenger and told her that on pains of death nobody was allowed to interrupt me for the next three hours. The door was locked, bolted, curtains drawn and I'd taken out my regulation rations and first aid kit, tossing them to the prisoner. "Fix yourself up best as you can. For the next three hours you're going to tell me _everything _I don't know, no embellishments, exaggerations or secrets."

"Gladly," She'd answered in a muffled voice as she'd begun to feed her malnourished body, shoving bread down her dry throat.

I'm not sure what I'd expected then, or whether I'd even wanted to gain her trust, to carry on caring for this, in my opinion, recklessly courageous juvenile who refused to back down from authority. The thought of mutual respect, let alone mutual confidence, wasn't a consideration. All I'd wanted to know at that moment were two things. One, everything that had been hidden from me.

And another thing. Because even as I'd tried to push it away, I'd felt a mix of emotions for the petite prisoner in front of me- amazement, something almost like fear, bemusement, and... admiration.

I'd wanted to know her name.

Her recording number meant for the prisoner logs, clearly printed on her grungy regulation camp shirt, was simply D62010. I knew nothing about who she really was- so I could start there. I'd waited til she'd finished devouring the food I'd provided, then asked as gently as I could manage, "What's your name?"

I hadn't been sure if it was my tone or my question, but she nearly toppled off the chair in astonishment. Something clenched at my heart as I realized the underlying reason for the behaviour; she must never have expected that from me because every other soldier...

I'd refused to complete the thought, dread flooding me all over again as I understood what my actions, my patriotism, my misguided loyalty these past years had really been for. She opened her mouth hesitantly and responded as quietly.

"My name is Alex."

**AN: :) hey again. I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! A few reviews would be great- I'd love to know what you guys thought and what you might want to see in the next few chapters- the plotline is still rather fluid even though I have a general idea of what I'm going to write (I'd love to hear what ships I should include in the story besides Alex/Nikita), and I'd like to know if you guys WANT to continue reading this story! ^^ Thank you and have a good day :D **


	2. Interrogation

**AN: Updating the second chapter fast because it had nice reviews 3 :) thank you chpll1525, nikalex and ayushi95, and Jas the BFF, for the sweet reviews! To Sassassin, thank you so much for the compliment! 3 I'm glad it's realistic and I'm going to let the other characters come as the story develops. It probably won't be overly terrifying (definitely not as bad as descriptions of WWI/WWII, although I will do my best to make it realistic but not awful). **

**Plus, I have no idea what the time frame is. Some things are undeniably modern yet some... not so much. You decide. **

**Suggestions for ships to develop later on, as usual, would be much appreciated! :D **

It had taken a surprisingly long time, despite her initial willingness, to get Alex to start talking. She'd obviously been taken aback by a figure that had, as I'd guessed, always represented terror and agony since her capture, instead decided to show her mercy, some sort of kindness and acknowledgment that she wasn't just a trophy, wasn't just a _thing, _a number, but an actual human being. It had made her retreat out of primal defense instincts, her suspicious glance sweeping over me as she'd shifted her chair back just the slightest, before finally snarling in another act of impetuous courage, "What do you want with me? Are you trying to dig information out of me and then send me for lethal injection?"

"Alex." I'd kept my voice even but bordering on threatening- no matter what this girl was going to tell me or what I admired about her, I was still head of the camp, and I demanded basic obedience and following of orders. It wasn't of any consequence what she thought; she was going to tell me what she knew, and what I didn't. "Tell me _everything."_

She'd seemed uncertain, wavering for a moment, before asking a little more meekly where I wanted her to start. I'd considered before deciding on her life before the war had begun. Might as well put some context into the matter. It hadn't escaped my notice that she'd drawn a deep, ragged breath and swallowed hard, gripping the sides of the chair til her knuckles went white.

"I was born here, grew up normally, until I was sixteen and then your people stormed my town and told us in no unkind terms to get our asses onto one of your damn transport vans and go to hell. Living hell." Alex'd paused, wiping a filthy arm across her eyes and choking back a sob, before her voice hardened to steel again. "All of you ruined my _life. _I had amazing parents, who would have given up their own lives to make sure I grew up educated, well-fed, with a roof over my head, clothes to wear, and my heart in the right place. I was going to graduate. I was going to get a scholarship. I was going to make my parents proud. I had a girlfriend, a best friend, a dog. I had everything, and you decided to take innocents' lives in more ways than one because you wanted another piece of land to destroy."

She'd been crying freely then, unable to stop the hiccups. The barrier between us had still been high and sturdy, even if some of its bricks were coming loose, and I'd decided I was in no position to show sympathy, simply waiting for her to compose herself til she could speak again, even though the uncomfortable feeling in my stomach escalated- it felt like there was an gun pointed straight at me.

I'd never been on _that _end of a gun, even if it was a psychological one. And the sensation was paralyzing. Being able to, all of a sudden, see it all too clearly- watch someone who seemed more beast than human point a weapon at you, defenseless, knowing you were going to die... Alex was no beast, I'd decided from the first moment I'd heard her name, but it felt like she was aiming that firearm at me right then.

So lost in my reverie I'd almost missed Alex finally pulling herself together enough to continue. "My parents were put on a separate van- we were told it was because of space constraints, and we'd end up at the same camp. So when I got here, to this place of misery and torment, I waited. I waited for days, for weeks, I waited so long for them to appear and I never gave up hope because they were my one lifeline to believing I was going to make it out of here." She'd thrown her head back and laughed, one long screech of chilling laughter that send shudders down my spine. Somehow, being around Alex petrified my very soul more than all those cold nights out there, in pitch blackness, not sure if any time your commander would scream an alert and get you up and out... and that was admirable. There was something magnetic about her I couldn't place.

"It took me a month to give up, after my bunkmate told me the truth. The only people you bring here are children and teenagers, trained and brainwashed to become good little toys for _your _country to play with. The adults were put in concentration camps where they were left to die. I don't know whether that's worse or not. And you know what? I was on that van with my girlfriend and my best friend. We were terrified, because unlike _you, _we knew that all those tantalizing words were just lies. Nothing but blatant lies. We were convinced we were going to die on the way to the camps, all the way out on isolated islands where we couldn't escape. I don't know why they bother with barbed wire and electric fences and high walls and deep moats; we'd all die before we got to the _next _godforsaken island, considering the treatment we get here." Alex's voice was thick with unbridled fury by that time. "Those vans _looked _comfortable, roomy, didn't they, from the outside? You never had to ride in them. We were crammed into them, because half the space was left for you officers to lounge around. Two people on one little rickety seat that wasn't upkept on a twenty-four hour journey. My best friend was sick and you still dragged her on, telling her that she was going to get medical treatment where we were going." Alex had snorted derisively, scratching one long line across my redwood table with a long, blunt, grimy fingernail. "Medical treatment probably meant lethal injection the moment she got there. My girlfriend went to her aid, kept screaming to the officers in charge for any medication, any painkillers from their first-aid kits, when she began to writhe in pain and couldn't breathe properly on the last hour of the journey."

Her fist had slammed straight onto the tabletop to punctuate her point, and I'd been convinced for a moment she might leave an indent. "They stopped the van. They took both of them out there. They shot my best friend in the head and told us it was a merciful kill, because she hadn't directly caused any problems. But the leader of that group- she just went up there and kicked my girlfriend to the ground, and used her bare hands to strangle her." Alex's hand had shot up to her own throat unconsciously, hissing softly. "I saw the light leave her eyes. I saw my closest friend and my first love die in front of me. And if it hadn't been for her making me promise I'd live on for her, even if it meant just for an hour more, if it hadn't been for that tiny, tiny hope that I would see my parents at the camp, I would have grabbed any damn gun and shot myself right then too."

_That _had made me flash back. I had been certain at that moment that Alex- and all of them- would probably have gladly torn the guts out of any one of us if they could. We were inhuman. We were _their _'the enemy'. We were evil.

But I could _empathize. _In that moment I understood. The one thing that had been my flaw as a private, a junior officer, still on recon. Being a soldier demanded that our emotions come second to our loyalty. It was the reason why I'd been given what was ranked as only a _semi-_cushy job, because I still had to pull my weight around on camp. With my skill, it was probable that I could have been given a job back at HQ, sitting at a desk pressing buttons and spending more of my time on myself and nothing else, doing whatever I wanted.

But I'd fallen in love- and lost that love. Daniel- a less skilled, recently conscripted young man a rank below me- had joined my unit around three months after I'd enlisted. We'd thought we could evade discovery, and we had, for another two months. Being able to find love amongst the hardship that I was born to fight had felt like paradise to me; laughable after the war ended, how anything then could have felt like an equivalent to heaven.

Our platoon commander had discovered us. It had been bound to happen, and through that love, I'd been preparing to lose Daniel, because I was willing to protect my position no matter what the cost, even if it had meant killing him with my own hands. Had I been cold-blooded, desperate, or just brainwashed?

I'd been asked to be seen first. The moment I'd walked in I'd told my commander that if it took breaking Daniel's neck in his sleep to keep my position in his platoon, in the army, I would do it this instant. He'd raised his eyebrows, amused, and told me to bring the dead body back.

My first kill ever hadn't been 'the enemy', and that might have been, I thought, what protected me from the nightmares my platoon-mates had suffered later on when _they'd _had to make their kills.

My first kill had been the man I first loved.

My expression must have changed, because Alex had frowned and stared at me. "I'm sorry to be disrespectful, even if I already have been all this time, not that I give a fuck, but Camp Head Ma'am Mears... are you listening?"

Still stinging from the fresh memory, I'd smacked the table with one hand. "D62010, show one more act of defiance to what I ordered you to do and I will send you to-" I'd discreetly glanced down at the 'punishment' section of the documents laid out in front of me. "solitary confinement for the next week."

Alex had had the wisdom to simply continue, and I'd seen her mentally shelving the information away. "The rest you probably know. Boat here, onto the island. The facade out there- your barracks and shit- made even _me _suddenly doubt if I'd been wrong. They even let us have our first meal in _your _mess hall. My last proper meal before we got sent to 'our' area of camp." Her tongue had travelled over her lips, embracing the memory. "You have hot water, don't you? We have freezing cold water and it hurts to touch the plumbing, it's so frigid sometimes. Just water, nothing else. No soap, nothing. Oh, and the way we sleep- two people on one bed, gender-segregated- the beds look like they were based off the Industrial Revolution factory dormitories. We sleep on planks fit together with corrugated cardboard, Camp Head Ma'am Mears. No pillows, we're supposed to use our shirts. No blankets; nothing done about that. The bare minimum, while I don't doubt you all have plump pillows and comfy mattresses and extra blankets if the night's cold." She'd pulled her fingers through her tousled, unkempt hair. "I don't even try to get the lice out anymore. Have you tried sleeping knowing that cockroaches and all types of insects are taking residence under your beds?"

_You know, actually I do. _Sleeping in the jungle had made me used to waking up to the possibility of insects and other creatures crawling all over me... but it had made me feel at home, part of nature. It had never occurred to me that someone could feel differently, and see them as vile and simply disgusting. And Alex's description... even training barracks hadn't sounded like they were in such bad conditions. I'd made a mental note to go on a proper tour of the camp after what Alex had told me.

"What do the prisoners do, every day?"

"Nothing you'd ever see," She'd scorned, the unspoken _because you just sit in the comfort of your office all day sending people to their deaths _hanging in the air. "Let me tell you how my routine goes, every single day." Her eyes had darted uncertainly to a piece of paper and a pen. "I can show you if I can write it down."

"You don't have paper?" I'd been stunned silent at that; I'd assumed that the captives would have at least basic supplies. Children and teenagers wouldn't need to work but they must have had _some _sort of recreation... mustn't they?

Even that was beginning to reach the abyss of doubt. _Do the prisoners have anything I thought they did, at all? _

"Paper! I haven't touched paper since..." She'd heaved a longing mournful sigh. "I don't know how long I've been in here."

I'd shoved my notepad across to her along with a pencil, and she'd clasped her fingers around it, putting the point to the surface of white. I'd never forget the look in her eyes when she'd set eyes on the writing apparatus... like she'd found God after walking through hell, which in a way, she probably had. The room fell silent as she'd placed all her attention on scrawling out her answer on the paper.

_Morn: wake up. Wash up. Bunk setup. Bunk inspection. If anything wrong (always something wrong), punishment. If stolen items found, SEVERE PUNISHMENT. Breakfast. Lessons (read: propaganda trash your 'teachers' shove into our heads and expect us to vomit out word perfect). Exercise/training (read: punishment but worse)._

_Noon: Lunch. Lessons. Personal inspection. Non-supervised officers' bunk inspection. Exercise/training. Chores. _

_Even: Dinner. Recreation hour. Exercise/training. Bath. Wash up. Bunk setup. Bunk inspection. Lights out. _

"You have recreation hour," I hadn't been able to keep the surprise out of my tone.

Alex had chuckled darkly. "You misunderstand. Recreation hour... not for us. For all of you. Sent to respective areas. The lucky ones get sent to put up plays, musicals, play music, or run the going-ons at the theatre. Unlucky ones get sent to fight to the death in the boxing ring, fencing to the death, or even the whorehouse. You've obviously not participated in recreation hour..."

"I have..." I'd trailed off. Of course, where could the actors on the stage have come from, considering how far we were from mainland? For the nth time in the hours we'd talked, I was asking myself- if reluctantly- how I hadn't seen some blatantly obvious things from the beginning.

Now she'd leaned forward, staring up at me with a mix of hope and anger clear across her features. "Now you see why I was running? _I _was always sent to the whorehouse, you know? They feed us all a concoction of drugs mixed with vitamins, Camp Head, that keeps us compliant. I've been able to get out of taking it as far as I can so I don't have to play their mind games, but it means I forego nutrition too." Alex had raised her shirt, showing how thin she was, the ribs obvious against her skin. "The food they feed us- manure could keep me healthier. It's why so many of us carry on taking it. They found out I was disposing of it, found out I wasn't obeying, sent me to the worse recreation area as punishment. It doesn't matter to me. I'm not playing their games. I'm not playing _your _games."

In that moment I'd stepped across the invisible lines between captor and captive. I'd checked my watch- three hours; we couldn't risk any more time talking. If we were discovered, I'd be demoted, maybe even dead, the way Alex would be the moment she was found.

What had I been thinking at the time? Had I wanted more information, had I wanted an ally amongst the prisoners, had I wanted companionship, maybe even a dangerous friendship? I didn't know. I still don't. But all I wanted, I knew for sure, was that I didn't want Alex to die.

So I'd done a few things. Calling for a messenger, I'd grabbed Alex roughly and shoved her outside, giving her a look, to which she'd replied with an imperceptible nod. Putting on a gruff voice, I'd snapped, "This prisoner needs to come back to my office for interrogation tomorrow. Send her in right after breakfast and excuse her from morning lessons and training. She will be back for lunch and all events after. Take her back to her bunks."

"Yes ma'am."

Once the door had been shut and Alex disappeared from view, I'd sat down, grabbed my official writing paper with the formal letterhead and scratched out a certified notice to be sent down to the entire camp and could not be argued against. Two days from now, Alex would not be suffering as much as she had been for... who knows? The same feeling of a fist tightening around my heart returned, and I pushed it away, concentrating on my writing, trying to rationalize what I was doing.

_Prisoner D62010 will be instated in my office as runner, official messenger and secretary among others from 22 July onwards. All bunk inspections, lessons and training will be administered by Camp Head Nikita Mears. Any offenses she commits under this post will have her immediately and severely punished by me. _

With one signature and an order to an officer that the note should be photocopied and delivered to all relevant parties, I'd let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.

Alex would be safe... as safe as she could be, for a while.

**AN: Trying to draw comparisons between Alex and Nikita. Nikita will, after a while, end up telling Alex a little about herself too, as is the logical progression. They have more in common than either think... trying to play on that. Nikita's second in command (probably Michael) should come in next chapter.**

**Reviews are always appreciated! Thanks for reading!**


	3. How To Save A Life (again)

**AN: Thanks to chpll1525, Nalexgirl, nikalex and average ordinary person for the reviews! To aop: Yes, Amanda will be making a small appearance later on... for Alex's side. ;) Michael is introduced as second-in-command! **

Considering I had just spared a near-escapee _and _assigned her a position in my office, I hadn't been surprised when my second-in-command had come knocking furiously after a few hours, storming in without me saying anything. I'd simply raised an eyebrow and carried on with paperwork while he'd slammed his hands down onto the table and stared at me. "Nikita, are you _crazy?_"

Putting on my usual menacing voice, I'd simply answered him with a "Camp Supervisor."

Michael had gotten the hint, breathing out and sitting down, smoothing his suit. "Camp Head, D62010 just singlehandedly plotted to escape the comforts and protection of the camp- the shelter we have so kindly provided for all of them. And instead of making an example out of her- at least giving her some punishment, if not lethal injection immediately- you _appoint her as your secretary?_" The note of disgusted disbelief had been incredibly obvious, even though he'd known that once I made the decision nobody could overturn it.

"She is returning for an extra round of interrogation tomorrow, Camp Supervisor. I will pose her the offer and if she rejects-"

Michael had nearly blown a fuse then. "Camp Head! As if she will reject!"

_Yes, she won't, because you've denied these children, these teenagers, everything they were promised. Basic rights. She won't reject because you don't give her warmth and proper food and freedom. _Michael had been practically indirectly confessing the fact that they weren't providing for the prisoners. I wasn't going to back down.

"I have _no idea _why you are making such a fuss, Camp Supervisor. Considering how you and your officers were unable to keep up a good watch and allow the prisoner an opportunity to escape, do you not find it a much better alternative if she was in _my _office all day, where my eye would solely be on her, and there would be no way she could run? At the same time I quite certainly am finding myself in need of a secretary when I have to deal with all of _your _petty matters within camp. Why send a semi-intelligent teenager to death when she could be useful to me and to us? If she is quick-witted enough to almost escape from this camp and your guards I might as well make her useful to me." My glare had told Michael that it was fruitless to argue, especially not after my lengthy speech.

"Headquarters will not approve."

I'd snorted disdainfully. "Headquarters has bigger things to worry about than the fact that I'm getting a teenager to help me send reports to them."

I'd refused to back down even with the suspicious stare that Michael had fixated on me. "If I wasn't so sure, I'd think you were feeling... sympathy for the enemy." He'd stood up to leave, glaring pointedly. "One word: don't."

The slam of the door had chilled my heart as I'd begun re-evaluating everything I'd heard from my superiors before the war, the sugar-coated oaths to make us fight a pointless battle against our... enemies? _Enemies? _Were these helpless children, toyed with like puppets, really our enemies?

_Six months. _

_Glory._

_Treated well._

Many can tell you that doubt is the first step towards discovery. Self-doubt, doubt of your friends, your comrades, doubt of the truth you've believed in for so long. One seed planted, and no matter what happens after that you water it, whether against your will or not. It grows, and finally when the flowers blossom and come to fruition the wool falls from your eyes and you understand how you've been fooled, over and over again. In three hours my trust in the three-year-long war- in what and who I was fighting for and _against- _had started to crumble.

My thoughts had briefly gone back to Michael, with some pity, some alarm. He was still oblivious to the war- _no, hold on, _my blood had frozen in its veins. _Or was he just numb? _Could you possibly be the hand behind constant torture, punishment and death and become _desensitized-_

Oh.

I had, too.

I'd turned my focus back to the bigger problem. Michael might, just might do something funny with Alex. What he could do I wasn't sure about, since he couldn't override my orders... but he would.

I had to keep on guard.

I don't think the memory of Alex first slipping into my office, reporting for duty after bunk inspection, is something that will ever be erased from my memory. The potpourri of dread, that maybe this was all another pretense; incredulity, that she was being spared from living hell from now on; anticipation, for the new experiences she would have after today, and the beginnings of some mutual trust.

"Am I actually... spared from trainings... and things? After this?" Her voice had been breathless with gleeful disbelief as I pulled up a chair in front of a smaller table beside my own, with a computer and printer set up for her use.

I'd tilted my head to the side and let a small smile appear on my face as she slid into her seat. "Would you like to go back?"

"No, Ma'am Mears." She had been trying her hardest to swallow the jubilation, and somehow, it had made me feel warm inside. _Happy. _A different happy from the times I'd trained, run, invaded, dodged, killed. A real joy of making someone life's better.

It had been surprisingly comforting to have someone else in the room, her fingers swiftly brushing the keyboard, the soothing click-clack matching the shuffle of papers as I went through camp reports handed in by the various committees. The pseudo-silence had been occasionally broken by Alex announcing an incoming order or response from Headquarters, platoon/squad commander or another camp, and by me dictating the accounts to be sent out. It was almost tranquil, a refuge from the horror I knew was happening around me. And watching Alex leave every evening for the communal shower, a small smile playing on her lips in an unsaid 'thank you'... felt like redemption. Felt like a second chance.

It hadn't been til a week later that we'd begun to genuinely talk. Alex had poured out most of her life before the war in detail while typing away, and I'd listened, fascinated, not even noticing the lull in her monologue until she posed me the question.

"How about you, Ma'am Mears?"

"What?" I'd been startled for a moment there while she stopped typing for a moment and frowned at me, hesitatingly finding the words. "I mean... you had your life... before the war, didn't you?"

I'd sighed heavily, shaking my head slowly. "Alex... I've forgotten most of that. I barely remember anything before I became... a soldier. It was insignificant to me. I was... really born a soldier, I guess." _Daniel._ His visage still haunted me at nights, when I closed my eyes and saw his face, those eyes which had lost their light in front of me, accusatory and simply _sad. _

"You must have lost people." She'd replied quietly, turning back to the computer screen.

It had been a subtle prompt, not lost on me. And somehow it had come easy when I'd nodded and answered, "His name was Daniel."

"You had to kill him." Alex had an uncanny way of reading between the lines and know what others were thinking before they'd said anything, just by observing them, and I'd just smiled mirthlessly. "I killed him to ensure I stayed in the army. Heartless, cold-blooded trooper, wasn't I?"

Alex hadn't said anything, but I noticed she shifted her chair away from me, just the slightest. The scrape of the chair was lost as my door was practically torn off its hinges, Michael storming in and grabbing Alex by the throat, dragging her in front of my table. "I _knew _it! You're a sympathizer!"

"Michael!"

"Camp Head, if you don't pick up your gun and shoot this vile worm dead this instant, I'm getting HQ here and it won't just be your career that ends, it'll be your life."

I'd observed Michael choking Alex, holding her by his side, eyes blazing. I'd retrieved my handgun and released the safety catch. "I'll shoot the vile worm, all right."

And without taking aim, I'd pointed it straight at my second-in-command and pulled the trigger.

Michael had fallen, his grip on Alex's neck loosening as she'd rolled away, gasping for air. Blood stained his clean white shirt as his gaze had gone blank. The gunshots had alerted the guard outside, who rushed in and looked down at the deputy in horror. "Ma'am Mears!"

"He disobeyed a direct order and put both mine and my officially posted secretary's lives at risk. Burn his body, like all the rest. I will have to write a report to Headquarters." I'd glared stonily at the terrified, obviously inexperienced sentry. "Take him as an example. My orders are to be followed. Step out of line, and that is it."

He'd saluted shakily, taking Michael's corpse outside. After ensuring the door was once again locked, I'd hurriedly pulled Alex up, studying her neck and trying not to flinch at the obvious handprints left on her skin. "Are you okay?"

Alex had brushed her fingers against the bruising flesh. "You saved me. Again." She'd retreated rapidly, unable to comprehend. "Who are you? Why are you doing this? What do you _want _with me?" Her voice had grown steadily hysterical.

"Alex." I'd tried to calm her down. "Sit down. I don't want to hurt you. Trust me, this once. Please."

She'd gotten back into her seat unsteadily, fingers quivering as she went back to her report. I'd decided at that moment to extend a risky, technically unforgivable olive branch.

"Alex."

Alex had nodded, not daring to look at me, still trembling.

"Call me Nikita."

There had been a silence that seemed like it would last an eternity. Alex knew- I knew- that calling an officer, especially a senior officer by name, was an unpardonable offense, especially if said in front of a particularly harsh officer who would rat within seconds. For a heart-stopping moment I'd thought she would just run out of there and never come back.

And then the response, tremulous as it was, came.

"Okay... Nikita."

You could have heard the two deafeningly soundless sighs of relief, as I made a memo to appoint my new second-in-command.

**AN: Much shorter than I'd have liked :/ but oh well. I guess it was a pity to kill Michael the same chapter he came in. **

**Guess who Nikita's next SIC will be? :) **


	4. Introductions

**AN: Am I updating too fast?! I really like this fic and my ideas keep flowing, so when I get the urge I want to post but... I don't want to spam! Thanks again to AOP and Nalexgirl... and here comes Birkhoff and Sonya! ^^ (Sonya's surname is unknown to me, so I've put Sonya L. for Lyndie Greenwood. Same thing with Michael.) **

"Alex, I need you to send a report in to Headquarters."

"About Michael?" Alex had navigated to the list of forms, about to pull up one on death records. I'd flinched, embarrassed; I'd nearly forgotten that I had to send in the report of deaths of officers to Headquarters within a week. It had been three days now and all I'd been able to concentrate on was going through the seemingly-endless list of officers who could take over as my deputy. There were so many things to consider- someone replaceable yet senior enough to be considered eligible without whispers of corruption and favouritism, he or she had to be able to work well in a position of secondary leadership... I'd glanced over at Alex a lot during the selections. I needed someone who would at least never challenge my decision to give Alex a special position. It was grueling and seemed ceaseless, but finally I'd found the record of one particular officer, and decided he would fit.

Deciding to write the appointment notice on my own, I'd nodded. "About Michael.

Alex's eyes had flashed with dismay. "Do I- do I tell them the truth?"

My gaze had swung around to fixate on her. "Of course, D62010." Alex had grimaced; she'd come to learn that my using of her recording number was to reprimand her, and as a figure of authority, I was glad it worked. I might have sympathized with Alex but she was still under me. The answer should have been obvious. "Tell them how Camp Supervisor Michael defied my direct orders, showed contempt towards the Camp Head's commands, and put two lives at risk. I've taken time to study the dossiers, and that kind of misconduct- the punishment is death. My shooting him was in self-defense. Got that?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"And Alex, when you're done sending that in, I want you to sort the files and printed reports so I know what I have to deal with. Logistics comes in top priority today."

Alex had paused, cocking her head, realizing that it meant she would have to step away from the computer she spent her days in front of, before finally shrugging. Not that she could have argued.

The appointment report had taken only a minute or two to write- it was all formality; just the replacement details for both ends and date of reinstatement. But as I'd sent it in, I'd felt the weight off my mind in an instant. I'd had no idea why it had been so crucial to me that this one adolescent was kept safe from harm, but I'd known from the start that I was responsible for her. And one thing that would not change even if my stance on the war changed, was the fact that I did not and would not shirk my responsibilities even if I answered to nobody.

_New Appointment Nominee: Seymour Birkhoff.  
Former Position: Head of Mechanics and Operations.  
New Position: Camp Supervisor (Second In Command)  
Replacement: Sonya L.  
Replacing: Michael S.  
Authorized by: Camp Head Nikita Mears._

Birkhoff was remarkably capable, as his file had told me. Before he'd been shifted from his undemanding desk job at Headquarters, programming hacking bots and viruses and occasionally fixing up the sporadic malfunctioning weapon. Until he'd been found trying to communicate with the other side (I had dropped saying 'the enemy') through one of the spybots he was going to send into the opposite side's system. HQ's Communications and Underground Technology sector had been mortified, not to mention enraged. Birkhoff's reputation and track record shone; they couldn't just throw him out, and as such he'd been sent to Camp: Epsilon and made to become part of M&O. How he'd risen to leaderI hadn't been sure, especially with a handwritten note by one of my predecessors below his routine profile- _sympathizer. _

It was of no consequence. _Sympathizer. _Perfect for the job, especially with the other capable Sonya with the same red scribble under _her _profile- _sympathizer. _M&O would be fine.

So would Alex.

I could tell Alex was petrified the moment Birkhoff first walked in to report to me for duty. Who could blame her, after my previous second-in-command had nearly killed her? She'd shot up straight, looking around wildly for a weapon to defend herself with, before I'd placed one hand on her shoulder to calm her. "Don't worry. He's not going to hurt you."

Indeed, Birkhoff had decided it was his duty to put Alex at ease, grinning mischievously. "Don't worry your pretty little head about this, D62010. Don't fear me, just marvel at the genius." He'd bowed exaggeratedly. "I don't believe in the war. I'm a sympathizer and I believe in it."

"Then how-"

"I am also pretty good at lying and putting up a show," Birkhoff had answered with some amount of pride. "And any technology's putty at my hands, because that's the genius I am. That's how I became head of Mechanics and Operations here. And now I've been promoted to deputy so Queen Nikita won't have another brainwashed pawn coming after an innocent teenager."

Alex had cracked a small smile, and I'd growled forbiddingly at Birkhoff. He needed to remember that I was, after all, his superior. "Camp Supervisor Seymour Birkhoff, one more word and you're going to be demoted to a Cleaner role."

"Yes, Camp Head." He'd caught the badge I'd tossed him and proceeded to put it on, showing that from then on he was Camp Supervisor, my right-hand man. Alex had seemed relieved, turning back to her work.

Frankly, I had been particularly gratified- I was probably more reassured than Alex was. I had never met Birkhoff; I hadn't known how long it had been since the files had been updated. He could very well have changed. But he seemed the same, if a little of a smartass who liked to joke. And that somehow made me even more thankful. I could instinctively tell he wasn't putting up a show, and since Alex had felt at ease...

Somehow, the atmosphere after that became a little lighter straightaway. It had felt like our problems had been solved, for now.

**AN: If you can get the *rather crude* inside joke I made with the sector Birkhoff worked in back in HQ, GOLD STAR. :D I needed an outlet. xD  
Who wants to guess what happens after this?  
;) reviews are always welcome! ^_^**


	5. Changes

**AN: Thanks again to chpll1525, Nalexgirl and AOP. And to chpll1525, Owen will come in a little later on! He's on Nikita's side though, you're right :) And the BAN trio (:D) will do their best to help... in whatever ways they can. Remember, Nikita may be boss but she's still boss of a camp filled with people who wholeheartedly believe that the enemy needs to vanquished. ^^**

The first critical meeting Birkhoff and I ever had as heads of the camp had been about camp conditions. Alex, for obvious reasons, had sat in, reiterating what she'd told me to Birkhoff. We'd both begun to trust her implicitly, and that trust was slowly, gradually being returned. It was treacherous; if one officer found out it would spread like wildfire, and if the situation wasn't contained, we'd _all _face death strapped onto a board with one pinprick that would send us into agony before our hearts shut down. Somehow my having to go through that hadn't terrified me as much as the fact that Alex might have to, as well.

I deserved it. She didn't. None of them did.

Alex had finished her narrative, eyes sparkling with tears she'd tried to hold back. I had understood perfectly how she felt; even thinking about Daniel had felt like I'd smashed into a brick wall... let alone thinking of the parents, best friend, first love that she'd lost. I'd checked the records, and found out that Alex had been in this ordeal for three entire years. The year I'd taken my first rifle into my hands and gone out to war with heart soaring and consumed with dreams of acclaim and fame, an innocent sixteen-year-old had been taken from everything she'd ever known and forced to go through hell.

The differences- and yet, the similarities- chilled me to the bone.

Birkhoff, meanwhile, had seemed to be unperturbed. If he'd been hiding his outrage at the atrocity happening within our walls, he'd been a good actor. He'd simply opened up a window on his laptop and started reading out his writing. "So, we have to improve conditions significantly enough that the kids get better treatment... but we have to make sure the change isn't so drastic that our people suspect we're up to something. Our problems are- lack of recreation, the brutal 'recreation hour' treatment some of the captives receive, punishment being too harsh, overworking underaged detainees, nutrition, hygiene, drug abuse and sleeping conditions."

There had been a long silence. It had been a long list, and each problem seemed overwhelming. The task to improve conditions on all ends and balance things out, as well as fulfilling the promises these innocents had been told was massive. It was going to be difficult. And that had been putting it lightly.

But one look at Alex's determined, stalwart glare had been enough to spur me on. "Camp Supervisor, prioritize. Which is our most pressing problem right now?"

Birkhoff had raised his eyebrows in some skepticism; _isn't every problem screaming out for attention right now? _"Definitely nutrition. Camp Head, you've seen the delivery of food and beverage supplies, and I've done some snooping in the kitchens. Every meal gives the barest basics and every food ration we receive that actually has some nutritional value is reserved for us by Food and Beverage Sector. Even rotten or stale foodstuffs are given along when there's a shortage. It comes together with drug abuse, since this... lab-designed drug back at Headquarters delivers the nutrition these children so desperately need. It's fed to them-" Birkhoff had checked his own file before Alex had cut in. "Dinnertime. It's fed to us, in liquid form, at dinnertime along with that indescribable mush that couldn't be counted as edible, Camp Supervisor."

Birkhoff had nodded, sorrow and anger crossing his features. "It feeds. It makes sure hunger isn't something the prisoners have to be worried about. It keeps them obedient. Alex, as far as I've read through from what you've given me, Camp Head, is one of the only ones who've refused to eat."

"And they keep me in line as far as they can with punishment, and it saves on the drug and vitamins anyway. So they don't care." Alex had lifted her head proudly. "I'm _not _playing their games."

I had steepled my fingers together, pondering. "So what can we do?"

His fingers had run briskly along the surface of the laptop keys. "How much food and its quality is in a particular document that the Head of F&B follows strictly. If we edit it, we can divert proper food supplies to the kids."

"Won't they notice something's up?"

"Food supply reports reach you first, Camp Head." Birkhoff had given me a pointed stare. "You can tell them that the provision ration from Headquarters has increased. You can edit that document for proof if you need, we can forge it easily. I'll help you search your inbox later if you need. I'll work on it, and make sure that the quota that the officers receive changes just enough that they don't notice but makes a significant difference for the captives. It won't be tough, considering how abominably large the amount that's reserved for them- for us- is." He'd muttered about injustice under his breath and started typing furiously.

Alex, looking troubled, had spoken up. "How about the drug use? I'm pretty sure it has side effects."

"Sweetheart, its effects alone are abhorrent. But I see what you mean. It's not just to keep you all in line; it probably causes addiction at the same time. We can't do anything about that, Alex, I'm sorry." She'd looked like she was about to protest, but Birkhoff had held up one hand. "Let me explain. Not only will cold-turkey bring about very possible reactions in your fellow prisoners, it will raise suspicions. _A lot. _We can't risk it. Just keep refusing it, they won't find anything suspicious about that, and if there are any who _are _rejecting it as well, if you can find them, make sure they don't fall prey. You can't do anything about the rest now. That's secondary. Okay?"

It had obviously hurt to agree, but Alex had nodded reluctantly. "Okay."

"Next problem. Hygiene." I'd massaged my temples trying not to scream at the cruelty of it all, trying not to get angry at myself for having believed all of that crap over all that time. "How are we going to get hot water to them?"

Birkhoff had looked up sharply, amazed. "_What? _I didn't go through Utilities Sector. _No hot water?_"

"Electricity is fine, and we don't need to worry about heat too much in this climate, Camp Supervisor. But we don't have hot water, and we don't have proper toiletries except toothbrushes which are replaced, I don't know, every six months. I don't know about the rest but I make my own toothpaste from the food. It's frankly more suited for that than for eating." Alex had shrugged noncommittally. "That's daily life."

Indeed. The only thing I'd been able to do for Alex had been to provide safety in my office and extra food rations, which she had acutely needed. I hadn't been able to do anything about hygiene and other matters without earning misgivings from my men and women and possible fatal jealousy from Alex's own. "Camp Supervisor, they don't even have paper and pens. Music, electronics, nothing like that. It's the bare minimum, and less."

"The hot water... the hot water comes from the generator out back..." Birkhoff had pulled up the diagram of how the generator worked. "Ah. Water supply goes to both our communal showers- but the heater only provides for _ours, _not the prisoners. Simple. Camp Head, you need to write out a notice saying something along the lines of giving the prisoners hot water now that things have changed, make some excuse or something. Our officers won't notice anything, just make sure you word it so that the kids _never _talk to our people about it or they'll be on us before you can say Shadownet. I'll go down and fiddle around with the wiring. They'll get hot water by tonight. Back in half an hour; Camp Head, would you mind deciding on something else to discuss?"

"Roger." I'd watched Birkhoff get his toolkit and smartphone and move out. The look of appreciation and gratitude on Alex's face had felt like reward enough, along with the fact that, if nothing, these guiltless children would not suffer as much.

There had still been much to work on.

But little by little, working as rapidly as possible to improve living conditions while ensuring that those under us didn't suspect that their in-charges were helping the enemy, things began to ameliorate. Alex returned with a daily report on things back with her own, and slowly but surely, things were changing.

"The biggest change, honestly," She'd told me with a smile much longer after we'd implemented our first change, "Is that we finally have hope. And belief. That maybe the people we knew as evil? Have a heart after all."

It had been four months now that Alex had been working under me as a bit of a spy. It hadn't felt so much like we were treading a tightrope anymore as I'd begun to lean over to her side; not the side of an enemy, as I'd once seen it as, but the side of a people who had been dragged into a war they had never wanted to fight. The atmosphere in the now-soundproofed, secure office (courtesy of Birkhoff) was light, almost genuinely cheerful. It had saddened me sometimes, because I'd known that if the battle, this battle fought for futile means had never begun... we could have been friends, Alex and I. Daniel and I could have been lovers without death and duty coming between us. Birkhoff and I could have been the sparring pair of best friends, and it was then, and only then, that I'd begun to finally see what I'd lost in the war...

And maybe what I'd found, too. Because Alex and I _had _found some sort of friendship. Because without the war I might not have known love, at all. Because without the war, I wouldn't have known a friend like Birkhoff and fought on his side with him.

It would not be worth it, the lives that had paid for null so I could smear my hands with blood I would never really wash off and cover my uniform with medals.

But I hadn't only lost.

Especially when right after saying that, Alex had looked up at me shyly from her workplace and mumbled out something. I'd strained to hear her, and asked her to repeat.

"I know... I shouldn't say this. But... I guess since I'm going to die anyway, no matter what happens in the end... I should just tell you, right?" She'd covered her face, embarrassed. "It's going to sound so strange. Especially when you're... you know."

"Alex, what's wrong?"

"Is it okay if I show you? I'm bad at this kind of thing."

"Sure." I'd frowned. _Is something wrong?_

My doubts had quickly been erased when she'd walked over, taken a deep breath, leaned forward and kissed me.

It had been brief and chaste, and within a second she had pulled away, flushed. "I-I'm sorry, I mean I just-"

My email had let out a ping, an alert that there was an incoming report. Forcing my heart to stop racing and slamming against my ribs, I'd turned to check it.

"You're not going to 'die anyway', Alex." I'd turned the computer to show her what I'd read. "Your people have taken down HQ and they're coming."

**AN: It's ending faster than I thought. Oh well.  
Just a heads-up, I ****_will _****have another multichaptered after this! I hope it will be as well received as Two Sides of War :) as always, thanks for the support, everyone. You're so worth it. You rule.  
;)**


	6. Hanging Over Our Heads

**AN: Once again many thanks to AOP. You are amazing. **

Birkhoff had come rushing into my office just moments later, eyes wild with panic. "You got the email too?"

I'd nodded grimly, gesturing for Alex to sit back down. "They're coming."

"Two weeks. Maybe less."

We'd both heaved sighs of relief. _It will be over soon. _"You want them to come, don't you?"

"It's been too long, Birkhoff... we've been fighting a war that should never have been started." I'd shaken my head to get myself grounded back to reality. "We need to settle the practicalities. Headquarters has surrendered and from the reports, we- all the camps- won't have enough men at each camp to fight back very long against the incoming squadrons. We'll be outnumbered the moment we get here. The thing is, do we tell our people?"

"No," Birkhoff and Alex had chorused vehemently at once, following the statement with a quick 'Camp Head'. "We can rationalize it to whoever later on, if we need to answer to anyone, that we thought it would cause mass panic. Camp: Epsilon is one of the furthest from mainland; we could say we assumed our forces at the other camps were strong enough to take down the enemy and we wouldn't have to worry."

Alex had timidly raised her hand, and I'd signalled her to go ahead. "Camp Head, Camp Supervisor... I... how about _when _my people come?"

Birkhoff and I had frowned, not understanding. She'd hurriedly clarified for us, frustration and disbelief for how quickly the whole situation was changing clear in her appearance. "I've been here long enough to know how your officers work. When my people arrive, they'll use hostages, no doubt about it. It's powerful, it's a stalemate. Please, you need to find a way to protect my friends." Her voice had broken and I could tell she was overwhelmed. I'd gently eased her back to her seat, hand lingering on her shoulder in a show of understanding, before turning back to Birkhoff. "She's right."

"It's not a problem," Birkhoff had a smug smile on his face. "When I first came here, I installed... this." He'd flipped his trusty laptop around to show us a blueprint. "See. This is the prisoner's bunks. The layout is a bit like a shed, if you can tell. See the roof? Alex, if you've noticed, above the opening on the inside, there's a box-like container attached to the wall. And below it is a sort of... train-track like thing."

"Yes, I remember." Alex's brows had been knitted in confusion. "How does that link?"

"That box has an opening underneath, controlled by a switchbox operation on my laptop. I press one button... and the shutters come rolling down from that little box. It seals off the only opening to the outside. I was made to install it because the previous Camp Head decided that it would be a good idea to have a precaution, in case. You can think of a few situations where we might need it, yes?"

"So how is this relevant?"

"Don't you get it?" Birkhoff had asked exasperatedly. "Camp Head, when they come, we'll make sure _our _officers can't use the captives as hostages for negotiation because we'll _shut the kids away from them! _Only my laptop can get that impenetrable metal gate to open- and open it will after Alex's countrymen have secured the situation!"

Alex and I had sat for a moment, hushed, awed by Birkhoff's idea. It was actually brilliantly simple. A slow smile had spread across his face as he stretched his arms out and murmured theatrically, "Marvel at a genius."

I'd rolled my eyes and snatched his laptop over. "I'm doing rounds today to make sure there aren't escape routes and people can't get away; we all deserve jail time for what we've done, and I don't want the kids to be running off dazed and confused in the chaos that's probably going to happen and end up dying out there outside on the island. Alex, you'll hold the fort, or whatever there is left of a fort. Camp Supervisor, you stay here and settle anything that needs working on. Understood?"

They had both snapped a crisp salute. "Yes Ma'am."

I'd been about to move out of there with a basic toolkit to patch up any areas of escape when Birkhoff had caught my arm at the door, dragging me outside and shutting the door for a moment. "Camp Head."

"What?"

Birkhoff had cast a surreptitious glance at the closed door, where Alex had been beginning to sort out the files that would probably be archived for museums in future or destroyed in an incinerator in two weeks. "What's going on between you two?"

My heart had nearly stopped. "What? What's going on?"

"I don't miss a lot of things, Camp Head," His eyes had narrowed suspiciously. "And I sure as hell didn't miss the way you two were looking at each other when I came in. Did something happen?"

_Oh. _My skin started heating up and something prickled at the base of my neck. I did_ not_ particularlywant to talk to my second-in-command about this. Quickly putting on my professional-head-of-the-camp intonation, I'd snapped off a muted "We may only have two weeks left in this camp but I can and _will _demote you to Cleaner if you keep asking about something that isn't happening."

He'd shrugged good-humouredly, retreating back into the office without another word. I'd leaned back against the wall and paused for a long moment before heading on.

Two weeks. Two weeks and I'd probably end up with a life sentence in a cold gaol cell while Alex finally got her freedom. Two weeks and I would never see her again. The thought made my blood run cold and it felt like all the bones in my body were simultaneously being broken. _I may never see you again._

That kiss... that kiss had definitely meant more than Alex would ever think.

I had felt the air rush out of my lungs as I struggled to get out of there and do a routine round, acting like everything was the same as it had been yesterday. _As long as you're okay, nothing really matters. _

Going around taking in the camp, doing a thorough check of the walls, my people had saluted respectfully, and the few captives I'd seen doing their chores and errands for the officers acknowledged me fearfully, with some reverence, knowing that I had done my best to help them and make life a little easier for them.

My heart had clenched once again, and tears had blurred my eyes as I'd fixed a minor break in the barbed wire fence. _You'll be free soon. Be safe, and know that I'm so, so sorry._

The war should never have been fought.

**AN: Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter. We're coming closer and closer to... well, you know. As of now, these are the characters which have featured (I need a track for myself :p)**

**Nikita- Camp Head  
Birkhoff- Camp Supervisor  
Alex- D62010  
Michael- Ex-Camp Supervisor (deceased)  
Sonya (featuring only in name for now)- Head of M&O**

**Reviews are always appreciated! ^^**


	7. Waiting Game

**AN: AOP, Amanda finally appears here, as the head of the rescue patrols! Although not explicitly stated (especially since Alex's POV is never written here), Amanda knows Alex- Amanda took Alex in a Social Sciences class and Alex was a star student back then :) And chpll1525... here's your answer. ^^ **

It took less time than we'd expected.

Nine days in, Birkhoff had slipped into my office and given Alex and I the saddest smile we'd ever seen from him. "Lookout's just reported. Boats have docked, they're all going to be coming up to ambush the camp in no time. We need to lockdown." He'd seen Alex's aghast expression and hastily explained. "It's what any loyal Camp Head would do. If we don't, they'll suspect something."

"I'll lockdown some areas just enough so that our people think security's as high as it can go, and we let them break in. You're sure we're outnumbered?" I'd checked anxiously; I didn't want the people who were going to take Alex- and all the rest- to safety to be thrown back when they were already here. There had to be enough to break through our defences and take us down. If not, things would be severely jeopardized.

Birkhoff had nodded reassuringly. "One boatload would be sufficient to take down the entire camp if they put up a good fight, let alone three. The men and women will know they're overwhelmed before they even begin."

"Good. Alex." I'd jerked my head towards the door. "Go join the other captives. Make sure you don't give anything away. Act as normal. We'll get the safety door down along with the lockdown, but make sure if anyone from our side breaks through, keep yourself safe."

Alex hadn't made a single move, sitting down like she'd become rooted to the seat, fingers still poised over the keyboard. She'd stared blankly at Birkhoff and I, not comprehending. "I'm not staying here?"

I'd made an exasperated noise, going over to grab her arm and pull her out of the office. We needed to activate the lockdown before it got too late and the others in the camp began to smell a rat, and if Alex was with us when her people came to save their own, there was the chance that she could be accused of being an accomplice in our running of the camp. I was _not _going to allow that to happen.

"D62010, get back to your quarters _this instant._" I'd growled in the most hostile tone I could possible put up in this critical situation.

Alex had shown no sign of reaction, except for turning almost robotically towards me and rasping a dry, gravelly, "How about you?"

"I deserve everything I'm going to get. Alex, _go."_

She'd shaken off my insistent tug, eyes blazing. "You brought me into this deceit to make life better for people in your hands; I'm _not _leaving you. Not now." Her volume had dropped three notches as she'd leaned towards me. "Nikita," The three syllables resonated with anguish. "I'm not leaving you. I can't."

I'd read every message between the lines, and what I'd done next continues to leave an ache to this day. I'd pressed my lips to hers in an agonizingly slow, brilliant kiss, a zealous intensity saying everything that words could never have properly described. We'd started as dubious revolutionary and hated leader of a prison of woe, and it had come to this. I hadn't been able to stop the tears when I'd thought about how we could have met under different circumstances in a different timeline, a separate universe where the war had never happened. Maybe the cliche cheesy dream romance could have happened if our paths had crossed when we'd been nothing more than Alex and Nikita, not D62010 and Camp Head. In another life, meeting as the people we could have been, instead of being on two sides of war, a twisted, warped Romeo and Juliet where there'd been more casualties than Tybalt, Mercutio and Paris.

Then I'd shoved her away, forcefully driven her out of the office and slammed the door. The look of betrayal and hurt in that split second before the door was shut had been more than enough to make my heart shatter into a million glass shards. I'd done my best to fight the tears and order a bemused but not surprised Birkhoff to commence lockdown with a clear voice, then prepare for the end.

It had felt like eons compressed into the span of seconds, after we'd heard the only opening out- the sturdy metal gates- being steamrollered by superior technology. There were shouts of rage, the clash of combat beginning, and two soldiers had run wild-eyed to the office. "Camp Head, Camp Supervisor-"

"Have they broken past our defences already?" Birkhoff had been observing the situation from the camera he'd secretly installed when fixing up the gates, and he had been simply asking the question they'd expected to hear.

"Camp Supervisor, we have to go out there and fight. Now." We'd snatched up our weapons, gone out into the pandemonium, and as expected, the two of us had made no difference to our numbers, and within minutes there were bodies strewn on the ground, shot to death in the altercation, mostly from our side. The courtyard had been in shambles. We'd been scattered, and surrender was our only option. I'd been facedown on the ground with Birkhoff, hands over my head, watchfully looking up to about knee-height to see what had been going on. There had been nothing but natural field-grey pant-clad legs walking around, ensuring that whoever had been down stayed down.

"Who's the Camp Head?" A feminine voice had thundered out across the square. I'd raised one hand, and heard the clatter of footsteps coming towards me. A brown-haired soldier with a three-bar rank had grabbed my jaw roughly and pulled my head up, teeth curled into a snarl. "Where are my people?"

I'd gestured towards the huge barn-shaped concrete structure, now locked off from the rest of the outside by the resilient metal barrier. I'd sent a silent prayer to Alex to have taken charge and tried to calm her fellow prisoners down, making sure nobody had gone into hysterics after the sudden cut-off and the ensuing mayhem outside. "You need to open it through a software in my office," I'd whispered so no officer near me could have heard. "I can work it." I'd tried to communicate with my eyes how much I wanted, _needed _the captives to be free.

The woman had nodded tersely, keeping me in a basic lock that would allow her to incapacitate me the moment I'd shown any sign of trying to escape. I'd entered my office and opened Birkhoff's laptop more carefully than I'd ever thought I would- somehow, doing the simplest acts had seemed priceless, knowing they might be the last time I'd ever commit them. A few clicks here and there, and the metal shutters had begun rolling back up, freeing the prisoners... this time, hopefully, forever.

The whole rescue patrol had jumped into action instantaneously, beginning to help the numerous teenagers and children out into the quadrangle and had started loading them onto the extra boats to take them back to mainland, to safety. I'd caught Alex's eye as she was being human-crutched out by the same concerned officer who'd talked to me, and I'd given her a small smile.

The smile she'd returned had been enough for me to know that if I died for what I'd done, I would die for a reason.

Us survivors had been dragged unceremoniously to the half-filled boat of officers after all the captives had been safely transferred out, and I'd noted with shame and gratitude that, unlike us, they'd decided to treat their prisoners with respect- we had been gruffly asked if we were comfortable and if anyone had needed medical supplies, before we sped off.

The long-haired female who had asked who the Camp Head was- who I had assumed was the leader of the whole group- had sidled up to me, sitting down. "You're Camp Head Nikita Mears?"

"Are you allowed to put me under arrest?" I'd asked ruefully. She'd shaken her head. "No, I'm not. But that's not what I want to ask you about." She'd paused, trying to get the words in order. "My name is Amanda, and I know Alexandra Udinov- Alex. I taught her Social Sciences back before the war began. When I was getting her out, all she kept saying was that we had to spare you from a death sentence, because you and... Camp Supervisor Seymour Birkhoff were sympathizers."

I'd shrugged indifferently. _Alex is safe, and I don't care what happens after this. _"You can hear it from her, and from them."

"Nikita Mears." Amanda had placed one hand on my wrist and fixed her gaze on me. "I don't know if you really did it or not. But if you did... thank you."

That was all I ever heard from Amanda. She had not spoken to me the entire trip back after that, and I'd never seen her again.

Back on the newly-recaptured mainland, a three-person holding cell had been mine, Birkhoff, and Sonya's home for the next year as the heated trials had gone on within the country, once again divided on major opinion, while the law had systematically gone through all of those who had been considered perpetrators and accomplices in the scores of atrocities committed in the war. There had been plenty of death penalties- no surprise there.

But it _had _been a shock when Birkhoff, Sonya and I had been awoken by a prison officer knocking on the bars of our cell, telling us we did not have to go to court, and that we would be spending another five years in the same holding cell, serving the minimum sentence for anyone who had played a role in the war. We'd sat there with jaws dropped, dumbfounded, especially me.

For after everything I'd done, I was getting a _minimum sentence?_

From what our messenger had explained after he'd dropped the bombshell, we'd learnt that Alex, along with the other prisoners, had given overwhelming evidence, matching statements, that testified in favour of Birkhoff and I doing our utmost to right the wrongs done to those we'd had in our camp, and the 'sympathizer' written on all our files had been enough for us to have been given the minimum sentence- five years with no possibility of parole.

The warden had left us, with a quip about welcoming us to our place of residence for the next five years, and the door to our cell had clanged shut as we'd looked at each other, the verdict slowly sinking in. I'd shut my eyes, the relief feeling like I'd won a million dollars. Alex was safe. I was alive, and so were Birkhoff and Sonya, who had been hugging each other, tears streaming down their faces.

Sixty months. Five years, and no matter what happened, I'd known I _would _go out there and find Alex again.

I'd needed to tell her what I hadn't been able to verbalize... even if it took the rest of my life to locate her once more.

Right then, it had just been about playing the waiting game. And since it had meant her- I'd played it with all my heart

**AN: YAY! Personal victory of putting the fic name into a chapter! :D hope you liked it, with the war finally having come to an end! :) Nikita will be using past tense from now on, not past perfect. (the grammar nazi notes). **


	8. Starting Afresh

**AN: Thanks to Nalexgirl for the continued support! I'm looking forward to finding out what Alex has been doing too, AOP ;) To chpll1525, I feel the same when I think about even writing their reunion. It's going to be fun :D Percy and Roan are ****_so _****OOC here but I couldn't think of any other way to slot them in. Apologies to anyone who doesn't like the way I wrote it this is the first chapter where a specific location is explicitly stated :D**

Would you believe me, if I said that five years surrounded by those four cold, slate-coloured walls... felt only just as long as my three-and-a-half years outside as a soldier had been?

It hadn't been a dull existence. Not really. Especially not when you had smart-aleck Birkhoff and witty, sardonic Sonya in your holding cell- and later on, when you were shifted into a larger one to hold the few sympathizers gathered amongst the prisoners taken, you had ex-platoon mates, quick-thinking Ryan and impulsive Owen, joining the group. Especially not when you knew that what was waiting for you outside was so much better than any life you could have carried on leading as Camp Head Nikita Mears. Especially not when you had a plan you were going to execute the moment you got out of prison... not much of a plan, just going to every possible source to find Alex- but it was the one thing I was fixated on. I had to know if she was safe and happy... if the only good thing I'd done during the war had been worth it.

It felt like a dream, when the warden arrived on our last morning _ever,_ with fresh clothes, IDs and all the possessions we'd had on us when we first came into prison. The door was unlocked, opened, and the five of us stepped out meekly into the whitewashed alley, following the beckoning guard past other holding cells into the last room of the prison we would ever have to face.

It took all of a minute- signing out on our forms of release, returning our standard prison outfits, and then we were free once more.

Stepping out of gaol was a shock. There were cars rushing by on the main road, there was lush grass on the sides of the pavements we were standing on, the wind bringing the smell of exhaust fumes and burning rubber our way. All of us stood still for a long moment before it really sank in.

_We were free._

"Niki, Ryan, Owen." Birkhoff said in a low, formal voice, and I turned to see him with his arm around Sonya's waist, looking at us with a familiar gaze in his eyes. That look said everything, and I knew, in that split second, that I was never going to see them again.

"Sonya and I... we've requested for new identities, if you know what I mean. We're going to be emigrating somewhere else. You have my email- and I'll contact you once we settle down properly, just to keep in touch you know?"

"We just want to start anew. Just forget about everything we once were. In a week or less, we're going to be downright different people." Sonya gave us a meaningful sigh filled with longing.

Ryan and Owen exchanged knowing looks, and I gave Sonya and Birkhoff a wan smile. "Yeah, I get it. I won't see you again." I stepped forward, hugging Sonya. "Keep him in line, will you?"

"Yeah, I will." She winked conspiratorially as I gave Birkhoff a quick kiss on the cheek. "You're so worth it, my second in command. You rule." When I drew back, it was like a there was a wall between us that had sprung up within seconds as I realized I was well and truly... _alone. _"Goodbye."

They dipped their heads stiffly in a motion that said everything, then slowly shuffled off, beginning to leave. They were almost at the main road, when Birkhoff glanced back. "Niki. Contact me once you've found Alex, okay? I know you will."

And with that, the two people who had been by my side for five years disappeared from my field of vision, never to be seen by me ever again.

"Hey." Owen awkwardly placed a hand on my shoulder. "You okay?"

I struggled not to break down in tears, sniffing a little. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay."

"Nikita." Ryan addressed me as firmly as possible. "You had a plan. You have to execute that plan, right now. Your emotions are running the show, you can't let that happen. Come on. Let's move."

Ryan's words gave me some strength, and the first thing we did was to hail a cab and make our way down to the Memorial Museum Centre, where apparently, for a fee you could run through the records of the POWs we had captured back in the conflict- and more importantly, the new identities they had been given after they were freed. That was my one lifeline to track Alex down. From what I remembered, her parents had been sent to the concentration camps- a death sentence hidden behind two ominous words. The logs were probably the best way I could get onto Alex's trail as fast as possible.

The heavyset, grizzled man sitting at the counter of Archives and Retrieval didn't seem in the least surprised when we entered with the request on our lips, probably the same one that had been said by the many who had passed across the same doorway as we had, desperate parents, heartbroken lovers, separated siblings, abandoned children who had now grown up.

"You're here to see the logs, aren't you?" He looked up, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. "People are going to come through that door for the next twenty years or more with the same appeal, I can tell you that. Percy here. What can I help you with?"

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my strung nerves while Ryan gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. "I'm here to look for a prisoner who was held at Camp: Epsilon."

"It's free to look through the logs if you're looking for someone you lost in the war, two dollars if you aren't and you're just curious," Percy informed us in a crisp, clinical tone. I was thrown off; I was technically looking for someone I had lost, right?

"Daughter? Son? Sibling? Nephew? Niece?"

"Um, no. I..." I squeezed my eyes shut and chanted a repetitive _be calm _in my head. "I'm looking for a girl I saved back when I was the head of the camp."

You could have heard a pin drop as Percy gave me a disbelieving stare, before shaking his head slowly and muttering, "Life can be full of all those damn surprises. Roan!" He raised his voice in the general direction of a rear area I hadn't noticed til then. "Camp: Epsilon logbooks under... what's the girl's name?"

I had forgotten a lot of details concerning what had happened in the war. But I hadn't forgotten Amanda's confrontation in the boat back to mainland, and the name slipped from my lips as easily as a knife would cut through butter. "Alexandra Udinov."

"O-Z!"

"On it, Boss," Within a few moments another uniform-clad male was heaving a box of folders onto the front desk, setting it down heavily. Percy rifled through the dossiers and handed the three of us a thin binder labelled 'U'. Ryan and Owen observed over my shoulder as I flicked through the pages, before Owen finally hissed, slapping his hand down on one of the pages. "There!"

_ALEXANDRA UDINOV. 19. NEW ALIAS: ALEX WINSLOW. RELOCATION DESTINATION: SINGAPORE_

"She's already twenty-four," Ryan observed mildly. "Five years younger than you."

"Singapore's a good location. First world country, one of th most densely populated countries in the world, bustling and vibrant concrete jungle. She would have fit right in." Owen nodded sagely.

I snapped the binder closed, the fiery determination kindled with a vengeance deep inside me, once again. "I need to get the first flight in. You coming to the airport with me?"

"Hell yeah," They confirmed automatically as I slapped a five-dollar bill that had been sitting in my wallet for five years on the counter. "Keep the change. Thank you, Percy. Roan."

"You did good, saving a life back then. I hope you find her," Roan called as I walked out of the door. I smiled ruefully at his comment while Owen flagged down another taxi and we piled into it, giving instructions to head the fastest way to the airport. _I hope I do, too. _

We were on a budget airline within five hours, taking a night flight into the garden city of Singapore. I didn't know much about what was waiting for me over there... but I fervently hoped that no matter what else I'd find, I would definitely find Alex.

**AN: Not a great chapter but it's just a bit of a filler til the next one. Hope you enjoyed it anyway :) reviews are always appreciated! **


	9. Rediscovery

**AN: AOP, that was a joke, wasn't it? xD about Singapore being large :p Jodi: neither can I! I've got the scene planned and can't wait to write it. 3 thanks for the continued support, everyone!  
Impact MMA really exists along Shenton Way in Singapore ( . ). It's just a location used in the story; no copyright infringement, etc, intended. Rather OOC (more of 2-dimensional tbh) Sean, Jaden and Thom appear in this chapter!**

"Nikita..."

"Yes?"

Owen covered his face with a pillow and let out a long groan. "It's _five _in the morning, we just got off the plane four hours ago, and my jet lag is feeling a _lot _like a hangover. How the _hell _are you up and researching?"

I didn't bother to answer, quickly connecting to the free wi-fi provided by the hotel and opening up Google, typing Alex's new alias into the search engine. _ALEX WINSLOW. _It turned up several results, and I went to the task of sifting through all the information, picking out what was relevant to my search and what wasn't. Five minutes in, it was apparent that more of the results fell into the latter section than the former. Alex had certainly kept a low profile these five years.

The third page I clicked through finally yielded a what-could-be-positive hit. _Impact MMA. _A training school of sorts, where you could learn how to fight in various different styles. I remembered a snippet of conversation from an out-of-focus memory back in the war days.

_What were you going to study? Before... _

_I was going to become a teacher. A martial arts teacher. I kickbox and stuff. Well, kickboxed and stuff, past tense._

I flinched involuntarily at the recollection, clicking on 'Trainer Profiles' and feeling a jolt of electricity run down my spine when the first few profiles appeared with photos. One snapshot, and I would know if I was on the right track or not. I scrolled down rapidly, looking out for the name that had branded itself into my flesh the moment I'd first read it on the prisoner logs.

_ALEX WINSLOW._

There was no image beside the paragraph of text introducing the instructors. My heart dropped into my stomach for the briefest moment as I grew a little distraught. What if?...

I shook my head firmly. I couldn't think that way; if there was the minutest chance of the path leading to Alex, I was going to chase the clue til its very end. I bookmarked the search results then clicked on the 'Contact Us' option. I could feel the blood rushing in my ears, my tongue dry as the desert sands, every sound amplified and distorted, roaring in my head like the angry waves of the sea, my heart thumping. It could be Alex, it could be my Alex and that was all I really needed. I scribbled the location down onto a piece of paper and tucked it into my wallet for the taxi driver to take a look at later.

_Weekends. 0930... _They appeared to be open til five-thirty on Saturdays. That gave us a lot of time. Satisfied and hopeful, I decided that maybe a nap would be a good idea. Owen was right about that at least; I was physically and mentally tired, and yet I was buzzing and tingling with vigor. It was instinct that told me I was on the right track and I was going to find Alex. A sixth sense might not be the most reliable thing, but it was faith in something, and it gave me some hope.

Ten a.m. came and went, and within half an hour the three of us were piled into a taxi and we were racing down Bras Basah Road. A still-exhausted Owen glanced at my hands balled into fists and fidgeting skittishly, and decided, wisely, not to say anything about needing another twenty-four hours to sleep, even if Ryan shared his thoughts. This feeling- I hadn't felt like this in a long time. I pushed away the demons of doubts that were crowding the clarity of my mind- _what if it isn't her? what if she isn't even in the country? what if you have to go on another wild goose chase around the world? what if you never find her? what if she doesn't feel the way you do for her? what if she never did?_

Somehow, against all logic, it was the last two questions that frightened me the most to even consider. Never finding Alex could, maybe, be bearable in the very end, given time. I would at least have good memories of our time spent together. I would at least die knowing I had saved her life, in a way. I could visualize her happy without me, and maybe let myself dream about her wondering how I was, too. Most importantly, if I never found Alex, I could tell myself that she still felt something for me. I would never have to let that unproven statement be shattered into pieces and see it break at my feet. Being apart from her forever and believing she still might feel some semblance of love, was definitely less miserable than finding her and having her shut the door of rejection in my face... because I couldn't face the fact that she might have moved on. Prison does that to you, the same routine every single day, until you can't tell the difference between a day and a year- or five. Everything stays the same no matter what, and you forget that things go on outside.

I would rather have 'what if', than 'no'.

"We're here," The taxi driver interrupted my reverie. "Seven dollars, please."

Something hitched in my throat and I was left speechless as I stared at the building. Alex. _Alex._

I didn't notice as Ryan handed two bills to the driver, gently shoving me out of the vehicle. "Well? Are we going in?"

The door opened into the front office, and a handsome young man looked up from the front desk, smiling brightly. "Hello, my name's Sean, what do you need? Are you here for the Muay Thai classes?"

"No," I fleetly slipped into my usual formal, proper persona, left over from being a soldier, a Camp Head. "I'm here to look for somebody. Her name is Alex Ud- Alex Winslow." I corrected myself in the nick of time.

Sean frowned. "Alex? Our trainer? She took a day off today... may I ask why you want to find her?"

"Because I've been waiting to look for her for five years." The sentence crashed through the barrier of my lips roughly before I could stop myself. "Please."

His startled expression softened somewhat, maybe by the desperation in my face. For a moment I thought he was going to grill me a bit more, ask why I was crashing into a martial arts school to ask about one trainer, then he went on. "Look, I just keep punch-in records, basically. If you want any information about Alex, you have to ask her fellow instructors. She's pretty close to Jay and Thom. They just checked in, they should be in the locker room putting their stuff down. Here, I'll bring you there." He glanced at Ryan and Owen, hanging awkwardly behind me. "They coming?"

"No, thanks," They both chorused, giving me a meaningful glance. I smiled gratefully back- they knew I needed to handle this alone- and followed Sean down the hall into a spacious storage area, where two young adults, obviously comfortable with each other, were shrugging on thin sweaters to beat the cold. For a moment I freezed- what was I supposed to ask? You didn't just go up to two strangers and ask them to tell you everything they knew about their friend, did you?"

"Jay, Thom," Sean caught their attention and waved them over for me before withdrawing to return to his post. "Someone here wants to ask you about Alex."

Thom gave me a friendly smile while doing a few stretches. "What about Lex?"

I tried to steady my nerves. It didn't work very well. _Alex. The only person who could make me this way. _"You're Alex's friends?"

The young man laughed, nudging the slender female next to him. "Yeah, Jaden and I, we throw her around on the mat a lot. We teach jujitsu and kickboxing together, the three of us. We're great friends."

"Why do you want to know?" Jaden narrowed her eyes, giving me a questioning gaze.

"Look- do you have a photo of her?" I knew how strange I sounded, but I needed to know, and I needed to know now.

Jaden and Thom exchanged confused looks, scrutinizing me dubiously before Jaden reached into her jacket pocket and thumbed through the photo gallery on her cellphone, then showed me a photo of the three instructors obviously having fun together on the mats after hours.

My heart nearly stopped right then as I fixed my eyes on the almost elfin figure in the middle of the picture, legs splayed out on the mat, laughter rippling across her beautiful features. She had grown up, no longer the teenager I had met in the appalling conditions of Camp: Epsilon- she had fleshed out, and even from the photograph, I could feel the aura of genuine joy and contentment radiating off her. But she was still, unmistakably... my Alex.

"Her address," I rasped. "Do you have her address?"

The pair leaned back warily, not sure whether to trust me. "Hey, hold on. Address? How do we know you aren't going there with a gun to blow a bullet through her brain?" Thom exclaimed, regarding me mistrustfully. I couldn't blame him, but I held my hands up in surrender. "Please. Trust me. I would never hurt Alex- I need to find her, I really do. Please."

Half a minute later, I was walking out of the entrance of the building with another address written on my hand, ten dollars poorer after giving the helpful trainers my thanks, throwing two more dollars to Sean as I hurried past and hailed a taxi once again.

"Are we your bodyguards, or something?" Owen complained. "What are we here for?"

"Shut up, you came because you wanted to."

"We came to see an old friend find someone on the other side of a war that shouldn't have been fought." Ryan prodded Owen in the ribs, a clear warning.

It was a harrowing fifteen minute drive to the Serangoon area of Singapore, before we finally got off outside a grand three-level house, standing outside a sturdy metal gate that brought back nightmares featuring the old Camp.

This was it.

I took one step back. I was not the type of person who backed out of things or ran away. But at this moment, meeting someone after five years- someone who could have become a stranger after all this time, someone I _loved- _all I wanted to do was flee.

Ryan might have been able to feel my hesitation and doubt, because he dashed forward and jammed the heel of his palm into the doorbell, giving me a satisfied smile. _You can't run now._

The front door opened, and a face appeared, yelling "who the hell're you" in an all-too-familiar voice.

Any words I might have had stuck in my throat.

Our eyes met across the threshold, and all at once, every puzzle piece fell into place.

**AN: Next chapter will probably be the final one. Thanks for all the support I've gotten as this story has progressed. All of you have been amazing.**


	10. Grand Finale

**AN: AOP- awh, thank you! 3 Chpll1525- so am I. I've really liked working on this; it's my favourite fanfiction I've ever written. I don't think any multi-chap I attempt after this will ever be as enjoyable to write. :'( And Sassasin, you're wonderful, thanks for the review! I'm sorry I had to end there but cliffhangers are great, right? (Don't answer that) Enjoy this one! The last chapter ever. **

"Nikita?" Oh god, her voice sounded exactly like I'd remembered it, hitting all the right notes, the right pitch, the lullaby that soothed every wound I'd ever suffered. She began to walk towards the gate, key in hand, her eyes reflecting disbelief, amazement... and did I dare believe I saw it? _Joy. _

I didn't know what to say. Just the simple act of her strolling towards us made my heart swell, and the lump in my throat grew a little larger. She slipped the key into the lock and opened it, and it was so _symbolic- _what was usually normal, commonplace, represented, in that second, the last physical barrier between us finally being broken.

She reached out her hand, as if about to touch me, the fear now obvious in her expression.

"Tell me I'm not dreaming," Five words infused with despair and unchecked longing. "Nikita."

It was enough to break down the invisible wall between us. I enveloped her in an embrace and felt her fit neatly against me, her tears beginning to soak through my top. She was snug in my arms, clutching me like she never wanted to let go, and some part of me still couldn't believe that this wasn't a dream.

"I found you."

She withdrew, eyes sparkling with tears mixed with hope. "You found me," She whispered, awed. "Five years."

"Alex!" A voice called from within the house, storming crossly out. "What is taking you so- oh! We have visitors?"

It was an older woman, scarred, browbeaten, obviously having gone through great trauma- and she resembled Alex so much. With a jolt I realized she was Alex's mother.

_How did you make it through the concentration camps?..._

"You better come in," Alex's fingers closed around my wrist and began to pull me into the house, with Ryan and Owen following, seemingly full of wonder at how the reunion had gone. _Two sides of war. _Bound together in one moment with no barricade in between.

Love was truly the strongest emotion, winning all the battles.

Alex's mother sat all of us down onto the sofa, gesturing at the food on the coffee table. "So, who are you young people?"

"That's Ryan, this is Owen... I'm Nikita Mears."

Shock registered in the older woman's eyes. "_You're _Nikita Mears?"

Alex darted forward, giving a pained look to her mother. "Mother, please-"

"Alexandra Udinov, don't you dare tell me, Katya Udinov, what to do and what not to do." Katya strode up to me with resolve written in every tensed muscle, and all of a sudden, she terrified me more than any sergeant's orders had ever done. It was the glare of a woman who had planned and wanted to do what she was about to do for all of eternity, the glare of a woman who would walk through hell to get her way.

I knew my fears weren't unfounded when the palm of her hand struck my cheek, twice in succession. It was earsplitting, echoing in my skull. I heard a cry- Alex's?- and then the fierce burn of pain spread rapidly along my face, the ache in my chest hurting more than the physical stinging pain. I didn't flinch; I deserved so much more than that.

My eyes were still closed, an instinctive reaction to the attack, when Katya said something evenly, not batting a single eyelash. "That was for Nikolei, who died there, because he couldn't take the pain and torture they gave him, day after day after day. And that was for me, too, because I was left in that hell for three years, thinking my daughter was dead and watching my husband die in front of me."

I wasn't surprised, not at all- she had undoubtedly had it worse in the concentration camp ruled by harsh, unforgiving heads compared to Alex.

It was what she did next that rendered me speechless.

Katya looked me straight in the eye and wrapped her arms around me, hugging me tightly. I stood there stock-still, watching Alex, Ryan and Owen's jaws drop, shell-shocked before I heedfully hugged her back. When she let go, I saw her eyes glimmering with tears, smiling wanly. "And _that, _Nikita Mears, was for my Alex. I've heard so much about you. Thank you. Thank you for saving my daughter."

I- the self-proclaimed star soldier back in the war, toughest kicker in the platoon, never backing down from a challenge- burst into tears, my legs giving out under me as I collapsed to the floor, sucking in huge gulps of air as I cried, hiccuping. I was a mess. I didn't care, especially not when Alex ran forward and hugged me, burying her face in the hollow of my collarbone. "Nikita."

Would I ever get over how my name sounded when she spoke it?

I doubted it. I seriously doubted it.

"I love you." It was simultaneously loud and soft, more of an accepted statement than a confession. Alex just sighed quietly and pressed her lips to mine, an unspoken _I love you too. _

There were no words to say. It was just us. Five years had not dimmed or diluted our feelings. And I strongly believed nothing ever would.

"Hey, what was the chaos?" Somebody raced down the stairs, looking bewildered. "I heard a bit of yelling. Everyone okay?"

"Hey, Nathan." Alex looked up, tears still staining her face, but smiling. "I'm good."

The sudden intrusion lightened the atmosphere, and unexpectedly, everyone started laughing. It was a good feeling. I relaxed my taut muscles, letting myself melt into Alex's embrace. Nothing else mattered. _Nothing._

Not now that I'd found her.

An hour later we were all gathered around the dining table, Owen snoring away with head tilted back on the chair, while the rest of us talked, just chit-chat, catching up on each other's lives, the time we'd missed while separated. One lull in the conversation and Katya jumped on Alex and I, with a casual "when are you two going to get married?"

"Mother!" Alex's mortified exclamation mixed in with my confused "what?".

"I don't know," Katya shrugged good-humouredly. "Ryan, Nathan- they seem pretty... already like a married couple, no?"

The two young men heeded her subtle suggestion, nodding fiercely. Nathan's eyes were twinkling with interest, walking in on a very dramatic scene he'd never expected from who he saw as Kate and Alex Winslow.

I gave them a small smile, pondering the suggestion while glancing at Alex, who just rolled her eyes, sighing exaggeratedly.

"Fine." I chuckled, grabbing a piece of wire from the open cupboard right beside the table, and shaped it into what vaguely resembled a circle, and then got on my knee with a flourish, looking up at Alex.

In that moment I understood what Katya had meant. Looking at Alex like this, looking at the start on her face... everything else faded away from the edges of my vision. It was just her, it was _always _going to be just her.

Why not?

"Alex Winslow, Alexandra Udinov. Marry me and make me the happiest woman in the world." Simple and straightforward, just how I liked it.

Alex plucked the ring out of my fingers, slipping it on. "I'm wearing this down the aisle." Then she threw her arms around my neck, kissing me passionately. "I love you, Nikita Mears."

I rested my head on her shoulder while listening to the applause of the trio still looking down at us from their seats. "I love you too."

"Together forever?"

"Longer than forever."

**AN: Hey guys. Thank you for sticking with me through these ten chapters. I'm sorry if it's an anticlimax, and I hoped you've enjoyed the journey as much as I do. **

**This was a hard chapter to write, because I'm writing it just after I came home from PinkDotSG 2013, a gathering where people come together to support the freedom to love- basically, a support thing for LGBTQ Singaporeans. And... I came home to Yahoo! reporting about the event, and people were slamming all kinds of homophobic remarks on the comments. And meanwhile I, a lesbian, am writing a final chapter about a lesbian couple. **

**So thank you for another thing, thank you for, by reading this and accepting Nikita/Alex, accepting LGBTQ (as I assume you do). **

**Thank you for everything. **


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